


(Not) His Bard

by AHazza



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Episode Fix-It: s01e06 Rare Species, Gen, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:29:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26155780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHazza/pseuds/AHazza
Summary: The first time Eskel heard the song was in Velen.Or,Geralt and Jaskier's relationship through Eskel's eyes.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 59
Kudos: 954





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Eskel heard the song was in Velen. The inn's tavern was full of drunk humans, so he kept his head down, trying not to attract their attention. He was exhausted, bruised, and in need of a warm meal after his fight with a griffin, and he didn't want to get kicked out of the inn and sleep in the woods. It was getting too cold outside even for him.

" _when a humble bard graced to ride along_  
_with Geralt of Rivia_  
_along came this song..."_

Startled, Eskel nearly choked on his ale. He looked up and stared at the bard. He was a young man--a boy, really--with bright blue eyes and a disarming smile.

Eskel listened to the song, utterly baffled. It wasn't even the fact that the lyrics were clearly a lie: Geralt would never do those things. No, it was the fact that this kid was singing Geralt praises, calling him a "friend of humanity" and "champion" and urging people to give him coin and ale. It was bizarre. It wasn't as though bards never sang about witchers; they did. They just usually had nothing positive to say, calling them freaks, beasts, and monsters.

This was... new. Especially considering that the bard was singing praises to the witcher that had the worst reputation on the Continent. The Blaviken incident had completely destroyed what little goodwill humans still felt towards the witchers in general and Geralt in particular. Eskel knew Geralt felt guilty for making the Path even more difficult for his brothers, and that guilt had been eating him for years.

Although Eskel had never blamed Geralt, there were witchers from other schools that did blame him for the blow the witchers' reputation had suffered after Blaviken. No matter how hard Eskel had tried to defend Geralt, it was futile: the Butcher moniker had stuck, following Geralt everywhere.

So now, watching that little bard sing Geralt praises... it was surreal. Surreal, but not unwelcome.

Eskel was surprised that the song didn't seem to be making humans angry. Soon, many of them were singing along and demanding that the bard sang it again--which the bard did.

"Did you really travel with the Butcher?" some man finally asked loudly when the bard took a bit of a break.

Eskel grimaced at the nickname but he was curious, too. He couldn't imagine Geralt allowing some human kid in fancy clothes to accompany him on a hunt.

The bard smiled at the man. "My good man, I'll thank you not to repeat that slander! The White Wolf is too noble and just to have committed the terrible deeds people accuse him of! I've traveled with Geralt for months, and I can attest that he's in fact too noble for his own good!"

Eskel's eyebrows went up. That soft boy had traveled with Geralt for months? He couldn't imagine it. Surely he must have been lying.

But then again, the fact that he was defending Geralt's character...

 _Hmm_ , as Geralt would say.

He would have to ask his brother about that boy when he saw him next time.

***

He did ask Geralt about the boy when he arrived at Kaer Morhen that winter.

"Who is he?"

"Jaskier? An annoying human who sometimes followed me around," Geralt said without looking at him.

"He was defending you, you know," Eskel said. "To other humans."

"Hmm."

Eskel studied Geralt's face. There was an expression on it that he couldn't quite read, which was strange in itself. He'd thought he knew everything about Geralt. "He was telling people not to call you the Butcher."

"He's a fool," Geralt said, looking down at his ale. After a moment, he pursed his lips and added gruffly, "I'm sure he'll imprint on someone new this winter and I won't see him again."

***

Either Geralt had been wrong or he had been outright lying, because over the next decade, Eskel heard _Toss a Coin_ everywhere-- _Toss a Coin_ and dozens of other songs about the White Wolf. Jaskier the Bard's fame seemed to be growing, because more often than not, Jaskier wasn't even the one singing the songs: other bards started singing them. Everywhere.

Needless to say, that massively improved the witchers' reputation. Eskel was still kicked out of the taverns and inns occasionally and called mutant and freak, but it happened nowhere near as often as it used to and the contracts now got him more coin. Eskel was under no delusion who he had to thank for it.

"Have to say your bard made the Path much easier," Lambert said, as if hearing his thoughts. "Though that song is still annoying and stupid."

"Not my bard," Geralt said before glancing at the female bard that was singing _Toss a Coin_. The three of them were in a tavern in Novigrad, a rare occasion that their paths crossed. "She got the words all wrong," he grumbled. 

Lambert snorted. "Don't tell me you know the lyrics of your bard's songs by heart! That's so... _sweet_ , Geralt."

Geralt gave him a flat look. "You'd know the lyrics too if you were forced to listen to them all the time."

Lambert lifted his eyebrows. "No one forces you to travel with him. I saw your bard last summer in White Orchard. He's a little thing who doesn't even have a horse. You could leave him anytime you wanted."

"Hmm," Geralt said.

"Are you ever going to introduce him to us?" Eskel said.

Geralt gave him a blank look. "Why? He's just a bard."

Eskel stared at him. "He's a bard who has traveled with you for a decade, Geralt."

"He doesn't travel with me all the time."

Lambert laughed. "If he travels with you more than three months a year, he sees you more often than we see you."

Geralt's brows furrowed. "Hmm," he said, something like discomfort flickering in his eyes.

Eskel stared at him curiously. "Geralt, how many months exactly does he travel with you every year?"

Geralt gave a shrug. "Six months," he said gruffly. "Maybe seven."

Both of them stared at him this time.

"Seven?" Lambert choked out. "You mean he traveled with you seven months out of the nine months you were on the Path last year?"

Geralt just grunted.

A tavern girl brought him a new mug of ale. "On the house, White Wolf," she said timidly as the bard crooned, _Give him some ale!_

"Pour," Geralt said flatly.

"Huh?" Lambert said.

"Should be 'Pour him some ale,'" Geralt said, scowling at his ale.

Eskel exchanged a look with Lambert.

"Right," Lambert said.

***

Oddly enough, it wasn't Geralt who introduced Eskel to his bard. Eskel stumbled into him more than two decades after he'd first heard Toss a Coin.

The bard wasn't even singing. He was sitting in the dark corner of the tavern--the one Eskel had intended to sit in--and nursing a mug of ale.

He reeked of misery. Yes, misery actually had a smell, sharp and sour, and since the war came to these lands, Eskel had become rather familiar with it.

Eskel hesitated for a moment before taking the seat across from him.

The bard didn't even look up, his eyes dull and listless as he stared into his mug. "I'm not entertaining tonight," he said.

Eskel sipped his own drink before saying, "Geralt has always refused to bring you to Kaer Morhen for some reason."

The bard stiffened. Slowly, he looked up. His blue eyes roamed over Eskel's face, not even flinching at the sight of his scars--Eskel was impressed--before falling to the wolf medallion around his neck. "Ah," he said tonelessly. "You must be... Eskel."

Eskel nodded, his curiosity increasing. "Geralt talked to you about me?"

Jaskier laughed. It was a harsh laugh, but there was something almost fragile about it. "He might have mentioned you a few times between his monosyllabic answers and grunts when I annoyed him enough into talking." The scent of misery became sharper.

Ah.

"Did you and Geralt have a falling out?" Eskel said with a sigh. Fuck, he wasn't looking forward to the winter now. Geralt was insufferable when he moped.

The bard snorted. "You need to be something first to have a falling out. Apparently I wasted twenty years of my life trailing like a puppy after a man who considers me nothing but a nuisance."

Eskel stared at him. "Geralt thinks the sun shines out of your ass, Bard."

Jaskier blinked and then laughed. "Right. As you said yourself, he's always refused to let me winter with him and introduce me to his brothers despite knowing me for decades."

Eskel had a few theories about that, but he decided not to share them. Instead, he shrugged. "I know my brother, Bard. Geralt wouldn't travel for decades with someone he consideres a nuisance. He has no patience for fools."

Jaskier shook his head and looked down, a wry, twisted smile curling his lips. "I thought so, too, but apparently I was wrong. Geralt made it very clear."

Eskel studied him over the rim of his mug. "Geralt didn't tell me you were not human."

The bard kind of froze before laughing again. "It took you, what, a few minutes to notice that! Geralt has never cared enough to look, I suppose."

Eskel was baffled. "Impossible," he said faintly. "Surely Geralt has noticed that you haven't aged at all. I saw you two decades ago, and you still look the same."

Jaskier's eyes were a little too shiny. "I guess I was so annoying he couldn't bear even looking at me often enough to notice." He got to his feet, smiled wanly at Eskel, nodded, and left the inn, his lute case slung over his hunched shoulders.

Eskel couldn't help but think of the young bard with a carefree, disarming smile that he'd met two decades ago.The bard may not look any older, but that happy kid was gone.

***

"I saw your bard," Eskel told Geralt a few months later.

They were sharing a bath--Geralt clearly needed it after he had arrived at Kaer Morhen with Princess Cirilla, looking filthy, gaunt, and exhausted.

He watched Geralt's shoulders tense up, but otherwise his face remained blank. He didn't say anything for a long time, and when he finally broke the silence, his voice sounded so strained it was barely intelligible. "How was he?"

Eskel raised his eyebrows. "You don't know?"

Geralt's jaw clenched. "Haven't seen him in over a year."

Eskel looked at his brother--really looked at him, noting his haggard appearance, his exhausted face, his unkempt hair, and new, badly healed scars all over his body. He had thought being on the run from an army was to blame for Geralt looking more tired and tense than usual, but maybe it was more than that. Geralt clearly hadn't been taking good care of himself--or maybe he'd forgotten how to. Maybe he had gotten used to someone else doing it for decades, caring for him when he was wounded, making sure he slept, ate, and rested.

Eskel hummed thoughtfully. "He looked good," he said. "Talked to him for a bit."

The look Geralt gave him was... almost _hungry_. "What did he say?" He grimaced as soon as he'd said that. "Forget it," he said gruffly. "I don't care."

Right.

Eskel didn't voice his doubts, just watching him and waiting.

He could actually see Geralt fighting himself--and losing--before he finally ground out, "Did he look merry?"

Eskel blinked. That wasn't the question he had been expecting. "Merry?"

Geralt glowered at him. "Happy."

Oh.

Eskel thought back to the misery the bard had been exuding, but it didn't feel right to tell Geralt about it--it felt wrong, like an invasion of the bard's privacy. So he shrugged. "I don't know him well enough to be the judge of it."

Geralt grunted before starting to wash his hair. It seemed too tangled, and his frustration only seemed to grow.

"Need a hand?" Eskel offered.

Something flickered in Geralt's eyes before his face became blank again. "Don't need help," he said, his tone too biting for such an innocent question.

Eskel shrugged and got out of the bath. "Suit yourself." He got dressed and headed out of the bathroom. He pushed the door open and shot his brother a look over his shoulder.

He went still.

Geralt's head was bowed, his arms wrapped loosely around his raised knees.

He looked... small.

It was a strange thought. Geralt was a big man. But _small_ was a good word to describe him at the moment. He looked small. Like anything could break him.

Or something already had.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Eskel ran into the bard the next spring. It surprised him: he'd spent years without coming across Jaskier, and now all of a sudden, their paths had crossed twice in half a year.

The bard's explanation cleared up his confusion. "I've changed my normal routes," he said.

Eskel sipped his ale. "Avoiding my brother?"

Jaskier made a noncommittal sound, his eyes on his plate.

He looked a little better. Not happy by any means, but more put together than he had looked last fall.

"He misses you, you know," Eskel said.

The bard went terribly still.

Then, he laughed. "It's nice of you to say that, but we both know Geralt didn't say it."

Eskel grimaced. "He didn't _say_ it, but--"

"He told me that if life could give him one blessing, it would be to take me off his hands." Jaskier's voice was toneless, his eyes hard and far away. "I don't want to talk about Geralt, Eskel."

Eskel frowned. He couldn't believe Geralt could say those words--and mean them. But if he really had said that, Jaskier's unwillingness to talk about the White Wolf was more than understandable.

He still tried. "He was completely insufferable this winter--"

"So nothing new, exactly. Look, I really don't want to talk about him. Let's talk about your contract. Noonwraith, huh?"

They talked for a while, and to Eskel's surprise, the bard proved to be quite knowledgeable about monsters. Maybe it shouldn't have surprised him: the kid had tagged along on Geralt's hunts for two decades, after all.

Out of sheer curiosity, Eskel invited Jaskier to accompany him on the contract.

One contract turned into two, two into three, and before long, Eskel found himself traveling with Geralt's bard.

It was... pleasant. Having company was strange, but not unwelcome. Jaskier was competent and smart enough to stay behind and not get in the way, which was completely different from the bard that supposedly ran recklessly into danger, according to Geralt.

When Eskel asked Jaskier about it, the bard laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. "I suppose I just grew up," he said, averting his gaze.

Eskel wasn't sure he believed him. Although he and the bard got along, Eskel had a sneaking suspicion Jaskier would react differently to Geralt being in danger as opposed to him. But he didn't say anything. For all of Jaskier's brash, loud demeanor, there were things he kept close to his chest, things he didn't want to talk about, and one of those things was his relationship with Geralt.

***

They had been traveling together for two months when they came across Geralt in a shitty tavern in southern Temeria.

Geralt's face went utterly blank when he saw Jaskier and Eskel.

He didn't hug Eskel or even clap him on the shoulder. He gave him a tight nod, his body language stiff and almost hostile, before his eyes shifted back to the bard. "Jaskier," he said hoarsely.

"Geralt," Jaskier said, fiddling with his lute case. "Excuse me, I promised to perform tonight."

He walked away and started entertaining the crowd in the tavern. He didn't look their way once.

Eskel watched Geralt watch him. Sweet Melitele, he had never seen Geralt stare at anyone this way. Geralt's gaze was almost feverish in its intensity. It wasn't desire in his eyes, not exactly. It was... _yearning_. Need. He looked at the bard like a thirsty man would look at a well with cool water.

"How long have you been traveling with Jaskier?" Geralt finally said, tearing his gaze away. 

"A couple of months," Eskel said, watching his brother carefully. Geralt's gaze kept flicking back to the bard every few moments. It would have been funny if there wasn't so much tension in Geralt's body.

"Why?" Geralt bit out.

"Why not?" Eskel said. "He had no particular destination in mind, so we agreed to travel together when we ran into each other. He's proven to be a worthy travel companion."

Geralt flinched.

Eskel frowned in bemusement. "Geralt?"

But before Geralt could say anything, Jaskier was back at their table. He sat down next to Eskel, leaving Geralt across from them.

"Good performance," Eskel said.

In his peripheral vision, Geralt seemed to become even tenser.

"Thank you, the crowd is nice here," Jaskier said, smiling at Eskel brightly. "I decided not to perform your song yet--it's not quite ready--"

"His song?" Geralt said.

Jaskier's smile kind of froze before he nodded, still not looking at Geralt. "Yes, Eskel's song will be my best yet I believe. At least this witcher seems to like it."

"I do," Eskel said, clapping him on the shoulder. "It's much better than _Toss a Coin_. No offense."

Jaskier laughed. "None taken. I was just a kid back then. _Toss a Coin_ is one of my worst songs, actually--"

Geralt got to his feet abruptly, grunted something, and headed upstairs, presumably to his room.

"I see you still have your charming personality," Jaskier said. "No conversational skills at all."

Geralt stopped, his back to them. "You and Eskel seem to have plenty."

Eskel's brows furrowed. Wait. Was Geralt actually _jealous_? Of him?

The mere idea was so bizarre. He and Geralt had always shared everything: from clothes to whores. There had never been any jealousy between them.

Until now, apparently.

"Excuse us if we don't communicate in grunts," Jaskier said sharply, his biting tone contradicting the fixed, longing look in his eyes as he stared at Geralt's back.

Eskel suppressed a sigh. For fuck's sake. These two _idiots_.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Geralt, I'm not trying to steal your bard," he said.

Jaskier spluttered. "I'm not his bard! I'm my own bard, thank you very much."

Geralt turned around and looked at Eskel.

Eskel held his gaze, trying to look as sincere as possible. He'd never been scared of Geralt, but he had to admit the expression on Geralt's face _scared_ him now. Because he could sense that this was something he could lose his brother over. Whatever Geralt felt for his bard, it seemed he didn't want to--couldn't--share him with another person, even another witcher. Or maybe _especially_ another witcher? Eskel suddenly wondered if part of Geralt had started thinking of himself as Jaskier's witcher, and seeing himself replaced was like a blow to his gut.

After a moment, the tension in Geralt's body faded. He walked back to their table, grabbed Jaskier's lute and put it on the seat next to him as he sat down.

"Hey!" Jaskier protested, making grabby hands. "Give it back!"

Geralt ignored him, sipping his ale.

Flushing with anger, Jaskier stood and rounded the table, reaching for his lute. Geralt grabbed him and pushed him down. "Sit. The lute isn't going anywhere."

Scowling, Jaskier did as he was told, taking the seat next to Geralt. "Still a bully, I see." Despite his grumbling, Eskel could see the confusion in Jaskier's eyes.

Eskel smiled. "I told you he missed you."

They both glared at him.

"I didn't," Geralt said.

"See, he didn't," Jaskier said.

Eskel sighed. "For fuck's sake, brother. Why am I doing all the work for you, but you're still determined to ruin it? Will you apologize and get it over with?"

Geralt scowled, looking into his mug of ale.

After a long, strained silence, he said, "I'm sorry," without looking at Jaskier.

Jaskier, the little prick, said, "Hmm."

Eskel sighed again.

Geralt's scowl became fiercer. "What? I apologized."

"Not good enough," Jaskier said. "I know you can do better--you have no trouble communicating with that crazy witch of yours."

"Sorceress," Geralt corrected.

Jaskier glared at him.

Geralt glared back, defensiveness rolling off him in waves. His throat bobbed visibly, his jaw clenching. At last, he bit out, "You know I didn't mean what I said."

Jaskier raised his eyebrows. "Do I?"

Geralt scoffed. "Of course I didn't. You're a fool if you thought otherwise."

"Only you would insult someone when you're apologizing to them," Jaskier said sharply, but the look in his eyes softened a little. "Do you want me to take you back or not?"

A faint flush appeared on Geralt's cheekbones. He scowled, looked away, radiating discomfort, before looking back at Jaskier. "You're going to leave me anyway," he grated out, so quietly Eskel barely heard him. "That's why I chased you off. Better to do it on my terms."

Jaskier frowned. "What?"

Eskel shared his confusion.

Geralt gulped his ale down. "Everyone leaves."

Jaskier's expression softened again. "I haven't left you in two decades, Geralt."

Geralt glowered at his now empty mug. "Crow's feet."

"What?" Jaskier said.

"Yen said you have crow's feet--"

"What does that have to do with anything? And by the way, I _don't_ have crow's feet! That bitch is just jealous of my naturally stunning looks--"

"I realized that you..." Geralt's face became pinched. His jaw locked. "You're getting old. You'll die soon, like all humans."

Eskel stared at his brother incredulously. Of all the stupid reasons... _That_ was why Geralt had chased Jaskier away? Because he was scared of losing him?

He hadn't truly believed that Geralt hadn't noticed that his bard wasn't human. How could his brother be so dense? So blind? Or did he think it was completely normal for his supposedly human bard to remain so lovely for twenty years?

Jaskier didn't seem to be sharing his exasperation. The expression on his face became rather fond. "Look at me, Geralt," he said softly, putting his hand on Geralt's cheek and forcing him to look at him.

Their eyes met and locked.

Eskel shifted, feeling like he was watching something private, especially since Geralt was subconsciously leaning into Jaskier's touch--as if he were touch-starved.

"Can't you see?" Jaskier said, even softer, brushing his thumb over Geralt's cheek. "You silly witcher. _Look_ at me."

Geralt was looking at him--staring at him like a starved man would look at a feast that he knew was poisonous but he couldn't help craving.

"I'm not going to die on you anytime soon, Witcher," Jaskier said, and somehow the word sounded like an endearment. _Witcher_.

Geralt's eyes practically glazed over. He shook his head. "You will. Humans--"

"I have elf blood, Geralt," Jaskier said.

Geralt blinked at him, looking utterly stunned.

Eskel chuckled. "Honestly, Geralt. I'm embarrassed on your behalf. Have you not noticed that your bard hasn't aged in twenty years? Humans generally don't look the same at forty as they do at eighteen."

Geralt didn't look away from Jaskier. "You mean... you mean you won't die soon."

The bard rolled his eyes with a smile. "Not planning to. I mean, I'm only a quarter elf, but I'll probably be around for a couple hundred years yet. So you won't get rid of me anytime soon I'm afraid."

Geralt didn't exactly look upset by the news. "I don't."

"Huh?" Jaskier said.

"I don't want to get rid of you," Geralt said, his voice rough.

Jaskier smiled, his other hand joining the first and cradling Geralt's face. "You need a shave," he said absently. "Who's been shaving you?"

Geralt didn't reply, just _looking_ at Jaskier.

His face was blank, but there was so much need in that gaze it made Eskel uncomfortable.

Eskel thought, not without humor, that Geralt was lucky Lambert wasn't here or he would _never_ let him live it down.

Jaskier clicked his tongue. "That won't do. I bet you haven't been bathing regularly, either, have you?"

Geralt gave a shrug, which earned him a long-suffering but fond sigh.

"Come on, up you get," Jaskier said, grabbing Geralt's hand and pulling him to his feet. "You stink of horse and monster guts, Witcher."

Geralt allowed it with an annoyed look, as if they all didn't know that Jaskier wouldn't be able to move him an inch if he really didn't want to go.

Eskel snorted as his brother and his bard disappeared upstairs.

He couldn't believe how terrible Geralt was at emotions.

He had to admit it was strange seeing Geralt so smitten, but he was happy for his brother--happy that he'd found a home for himself.

Hopefully it wouldn't take another twenty years before those two finally started fucking, but knowing Geralt, it probably would.

Eskel smiled and shook his head. 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! The story is complete, but I may or may not write a chapter from Geralt's POV. We'll see!


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